


detonate me

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A.U.gust, Alternate Universe, M/M, Model!Ian, Photographer!Mickey, Pierced!Ian, Tattooed!Ian, but not really, oh shit also, yes shut up i went on the 'alternative model' route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:05:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2224983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘But uh, you free tonight?’<br/>Mickey stopped going through the photos and tilted his head at Ian. ‘Why?’<br/>‘Because I want to make sure you get enough sleep?’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘I wanna take you out, dumbass.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	detonate me

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'free the animal' by sia (totally great song - go listen to it!)
> 
> many many mANY thanks to [teresa](http://shamelesschicago.tumblr.com/) for brainstorming this with me! and a smaller thank you to my sister (who hopefully won't find this) for getting so many tattoos and piercings, and also for helping me straighten out a couple of facts c:

Ian had heard from people that getting tattoos was a dangerous hobby. Not necessarily because of the risk of getting a disease from unsterile needles or anything, but more because once you started getting them, it was difficult to stop.

He got his first at age seventeen. He was manic and in the army when he decided to get the eagle and rifle tattooed on his ribcage. He found a decent artist, flashed his fake ID at the door, and got it done right there and then.

Although it wasn’t exactly pleasant to get, Ian enjoyed the process. There was something vaguely therapeutic about listening to the buzz of the needle, and the sting as the tip hammered in and out of his skin. When it was done, there was a small period when Ian regretted getting it done, but that was mostly because it itched like a motherfucker to heal.

A couple of months later, Ian had gone through a depressive phase because of his bipolar disorder. Things were still a bit up and down sometimes as different combinations of meds were tried out to see what worked best, but they had found something that worked well, and they were sticking with it.

And that was when Ian decided to get another tattoo.

He decided on a small yin yang symbol on the top of his right hand, on the bone that formed the base of his thumb. Balance, after all, was important now, and it was something he felt he needed to get something as a reminder to himself to stay there, now he had found it.

As months ticked by, things started adding up, and a couple more tattoos were added to his collection. The beautiful thing was that most of them were easy to hide from his family. Most of them.

Fiona raised an eyebrow at his yin yang tattoo, but said nothing, however when Ian came home one day with “Survivor” tattooed across his knuckles, Fiona sat him down for a good conversation.

‘Ian,’ Fiona said. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, getting all these tattoos.’

‘Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, Fi, I do.’

‘It’s going to be difficult to get a job, you know. The more tattoos you get in obvious places, the less professional people will think you are.’

‘I know. But they’re old fashioned, and soon they’re all going to be pushed out of their positions by more forward thinking people who understand that tattoos don’t affect the quality of work produced. Besides, I have a good job at the club, and they don’t care how many tattoos I do or don’t have.’

‘And how many is that?’ Fiona asked lightly.

Ian shrugged. ‘A few. Not too many at the moment.’

‘How many is “not too many”, dare I ask?’

‘Uh... Five.’

‘Five?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. He pulled up the left leg of his jeans and pointed to a howling wolf on his calf, the words “ _Live Free_ ” written underneath. ‘That one, and...’ he pulled up the edge of his shirt exposing the side of his ribcage where he didn’t have the eagle. There was a small picture of a key with the number “ _6_ ” engraved into it. ‘That one.’

‘Is that...’ Fiona frowned. ‘Is that the house key?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And the “6”?’

‘There are six of us,’ Ian shrugged again. ‘I’m gonna go upstairs. These are itching like a bitch already. Needa get some of that aftercare stuff on them.’

Fiona rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, alright. Try not to get too many more tattoos, okay?’

‘No promises!’ Ian called back, already halfway up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Mickey had always had a weird interest in photography. He didn’t know where it came from, but he wasn’t complaining. He supposed there was just something that was kind of magical about being able to capture something precious to you, or just something beautiful, and keep it as a snapshot to look at whenever you pleased.

It all came to a head when Mickey’s brothers came home with a camera in their possession, as part of a haul from God knows where. Mickey had taken the padded, black case before any of them realised either what it was, or how much money it was worth.

Mickey wasn’t actually sure it _was_ a camera, because there were always those weird people who kept things like socks or what-the-fuck-ever in camera cases. Y’know, as a sock case. People had hat boxes, right? Why the fuck couldn’t they have a sock case?

He was happy to find it actually was a camera, and a good one at that. It was pretty new, probably only a few months old, and all the crap – battery charger, instruction manual, USB cable, SD card – was all in the case. _Sweet._ Mickey was happy with that, and hid the camera in the space under a loose floorboard in his wardrobe.

The next time his brothers left the house, Mickey got out the camera and started playing around with the different settings. He ended up needing to read the manual (as much as he hated to admit it) to figure out what the fuck everything even _did_ , but once he thought he had it sorted, he started taking photos.

Some of them ended up pretty good, too. He had the right things in focus, the colours were good, and his composition wasn’t bad. He was going through his photos, deleting the shitty ones, when Mandy barged into his room.

‘Is that a camera?’ Mandy asked, distracted from whatever she had been planning to say.

‘Um. Yeah?’ Mickey replied, casually shutting it off, and putting the lens cap back on. ‘Why?’

‘Where did it come from?’

‘The stuff that Iggy and Colin brought back a few weeks ago.’

‘Oh really? You use it yet?’

‘Yup.’

‘Gonna sell it?’

‘Nope.’

‘Huh,’ Mandy grinned. ‘Show me your stuff then!’

‘Uh uh. No,’ Mickey shook his head and cradled the camera to his chest protectively. ‘Fuck off.’

‘You that bad?’

‘No!’

‘Then show me, asshole! You know I’ll find it anyway,’ Mandy said, flipping her hair and sitting down beside her brother.

Mickey sighed and passed her the camera. ‘Fine.’

Mandy took the camera triumphantly, switching it on and going to the review screen. ‘These aren’t bad, Mick,’ she said, flipping through them quickly. ‘You should shoot me some day.’

‘I fuckin’ will, don’t you worry,’ Mickey muttered, taking the camera back.

‘Don’t be a dick. You know what I mean. Like, a photo shoot.’

‘You? A model? My ass.’

‘Fuck you, I’d be great.’

‘Yeah, okay, whatever.’

 

* * *

 

Ian added to his tattoo collection over the winter. It seemed like the smart thing to do, so Fiona wouldn’t flip when she saw them. Even though she had no say in what Ian did with his body, he didn’t want her to start tracking his movements to and from the tattoo parlour.

He was on good terms with his artist, and they had become quite good friends by now – seeing as it seemed like Ian was in there every other week.

Next up on Ian’s list, he got a pair of swallows done on his hips. His artist – a guy called Steve, who had moved to Chicago from Minnesota – had rolled his eyes when Ian told him about his plans for the swallows, but nonetheless, drawn up the stencils, and got all his equipment laid out.

‘Are you sure you want swallows?’ Steve asked. ‘Like, that’s kinda hipster of you.’

‘It might be a suggestion to all those down below, you know?’ Ian grinned.

‘Aw man, that is so wrong,’ Steve groaned. ‘Ready?’

‘Yup. Let’s do it,’ Ian nodded.

‘Okay, here we go!’

After the first swallow was done, outlined and shaded, Ian let out the breath he had apparently been holding. ‘Can we take a break before we charge right into the next one?’

‘Sure, man. Want a piercing or something?’ Steve joked.

Ian thought about it for a second. ‘Alright.’

‘Wait, seriously?’

‘Yeah, why not? I’m here now,’ Ian shrugged.

‘What you wanna get? $40 above waist, $80 below,’ Steve said, pulling his ink stained gloves off with a _smack_.

‘Is it still $40 if I get both ears pierced?’

‘Yup.’

‘Okay. Let’s do my ears then.’

‘Like, first holes, ears?’ Steve asked, leading the way out of the room and into another one at the back, where all the piercing stuff was.

‘Mm. Might stretch them,’ Ian mused.

‘If you want. Pop a squat on the chair,’ Steve said, patting the stool. ‘Any particular colour stone you want? Or just plain silver or gold studs.’

‘Just silver, I think.’

‘Okey dokey,’ Steve nodded, marking the spots on Ian’s ears. He passed him a mirror and asked, ‘That look okay?’

‘Looks good,’ Ian agreed. ‘How long do I need to wait before stretching?’

‘Up to you, I suppose. Don’t take them out for at least six to eight weeks, don't turn the studs, keep them clean, and then it’s up to you.’

‘Okay. How do I take care of them while I stretch?’ Ian asked, eyeing the piercing gun suspiciously.

‘This is what the internet’s for, man. Tea tree oil, mostly,’ Steve said, preparing the first stud in the gun. ‘Keep the hole and the tusk or plug clean, and when shit starts smelling funky, definitely clean them. You don’t want your ears giving up on life and ripping. First stud in three, two...’

‘Fuck!’ Ian yelped, as Steve drew his hand away, laughing. ‘Yeah, yeah. Do the next one.’

‘I don’t know why you’re asking me about this _now_ ,’ Steve said, preparing the second stud. ‘You’ll probably be back in a month to get another tattoo, and by the time you can take out the _studs_ you’ll be here again. Second stud in three, two...’

‘Jesus!’ Ian swore. ‘Actually, that wasn’t so bad.’

‘Exactly.  Ready for the second swallow?’

‘Yup. Just let me go to the bathroom, and I’ll be right there.’

Steve nodded and went back to the other room, preparing for the last tattoo.

 

* * *

 

Turned out, Steve was right.

Ian was back a month later to start a sleeve on his left arm. It consisted of thorns and vines at his wrist, and going up into roses at the top of his arm, with a rosary tangled in the middle. Ian had booked Steve for two full days, one to get the line work done, and the other to get down the majority of the colour and shading, because Steve had told him to wait a couple of weeks for everything to settle down a bit before coming back to get the anything else done at a later date –just in case they couldn’t finish it in two days.

Midway through the line work, when Steve got to the inner parts of Ian’s arm – the parts that were the most sensitive and hurt like a bitch to get tattooed - he jokingly asked Ian if he wanted another piercing.

Ian shrugged, said, ‘Yeah, why not?’ and went home with a tragus piercing.

 

* * *

 

‘Back again, huh?’ Steve said, looking up from his drawing pad as Ian entered the tattoo parlour.

‘Yup,’ Ian grinned, sitting down in the spinning chair opposite Steve’s desk.

‘Before you dazzle me with your idea, how’s the arm going?’

‘Good,’ Ian said, pushing his sleeve up. ‘It was itchy and sore, but it’s good now.’

‘Mm. The colour didn’t bleed or scab out?’

‘Nope.’

‘Great,’ Steve flipped over onto a new piece of paper and twirled his pencil in his fingers. ‘What are you thinking about getting next?’

‘Chest piece,’ Ian grinned.

‘Oh really?’

‘Yup.’

‘What of?’

‘Well, I was thinking...’

 

* * *

 

Mickey had somehow found himself not only in the world of modelling, but in the world of _alternative_ modelling. It was, of course, Mandy’s doing, after she had made Mickey do a shoot with her, and then some of her friends saw, and wanted them to. Then friends of friends wanted shoots, and somehow, these people all had names like Luna Faeriedust or something, and Mickey had found himself in an entirely new crowd.

He didn’t mind though, definitely not. These people were awesome to talk to, had tattoos that broke the ice and made excellent conversation starters, and came up with fun ideas for their shoots. And the pay? Yeah, the pay was pretty damn good.

After a couple of months of doing shoots, Mickey had enough cash saved up to move out of the Milkovich House of Horrors and take his sister (and assistant) with him.

Mickey had found himself in the semi-pro leagues, doing shoots with people Mandy told him were world renowned or some shit like that. A few of them had actual modelling jobs, but some might scare the general population with the volume and subject of their tattoos, so Mickey was pretty much going to accept whatever Mandy told him about his clients.

‘Hey, Mick?’ Mandy called. She was sitting with the laptop on their couch, going through business emails. ‘I have a new client for you.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Mickey asked, doing something on the kitchen table with one of the new lenses he had just bought.

‘Yeah, he wants to meet you first though.’

‘He?’

‘Yes? There are guys who model as well.’

‘I know. When does he wanna meet?’ Mickey replied, frowning at what may or may not have been a small scratch on the side of the lens.

‘Um...’ Mandy scanned the email for a date. ‘Some time in the next few days?’

‘Okay. Organise something for Friday or Saturday morning when I’m not booked.’

‘Will do,’ Mandy said cheerfully, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

‘What’s his name?’ Mickey asked, suddenly realising he hadn’t asked, or been told.

Mandy reread the email and said a few seconds later, ‘Ian Gallagher.’

 

* * *

 

Despite having told Fiona that the club didn’t care about tattoos, Ian didn’t really have any proof to back it up. The bartenders could be as tattooed as they wanted, but the dancers? Not many of them even had _one_ tattoo, let alone the quantity that Ian was toting around.

The day that Ian came into work with his sleeve, he noticed that his tips were slightly higher, and that more people were paying attention to him. The bartenders had complimented the work and nodded approvingly, because: “ _You’re one of us now, Red._ ”

The day that Ian came in with his chest piece finished off, he got told by one of the bartenders, Nico, that Management wanted to talk with him. ‘I don’t know what about, man, but I think the new tat is gonna be front and centre, y’know?’ Nico said. ‘It’s great, though. You needa get me in touch with your guy, yeah?’

Ian nodded. ‘I’ll text you his email later. Guess I should head up to Management then.’

‘Yeah. Good luck, man.’

Ian finished his drink, hopped off the bar stool, and climbed up the stairs to go into the VIP lounge, where the bar’s manager, Dean, usually floated around. He spotted the blonde man sitting with a bunch of high paying clients, and walked up to their couch. ‘Heard you wanted to see me?’ he asked, uncaring of the fact that he was interrupting a conversation.

‘Ah, Ian!’ Dean cried happily. ‘Gentlemen, this is the dancer I was telling you about.’

The three other men with Dean all introduced themselves (Ian promptly forgot all their names), and Ian smiled back. ‘Nice to meet you all. Can I ask why I’m up here?’

‘These guys are talent scouts,’ Dean explained. ‘They make annual rounds looking for undiscovered people – guys and girls and everyone in between – to do modelling or acting, depending on what they’re looking for at the time.’

‘Okay...’ Ian said slowly. ‘I don’t see how this concerns me.’

‘You were right, Dean,’ one of the guys said – he might’ve had blue hair, but it could have just been the lighting. ‘He has no idea about his potential.’

‘My potential?’

The blue haired dude nodded. ‘My name’s Anders. I represent an alternative modelling agency.’

‘Oh, cool,’ Ian grinned. ‘Alternative as in...’

‘Pierced, tattooed... Yeah. Anything out of the ordinary. I see you’re just starting out with stretching your ears? But you’ve already got a fair amount of tattoos. Obviously not as many as the people I deal with, because you still have a lot of uncovered skin, but yeah,’ Anders shrugged. ‘You look like you could definitely fit the bill. You got any plans for more?’

‘Definitely. I’m booked in to get a second sleeve in a few weeks. I’ll probably walk out with another piercing as well.’

‘Awesome,’ Anders grinned. ‘I’m gonna give you my card, and you can get in touch if you’re interested, yeah?’

‘Yeah, sounds good,’ Ian smiled, taking the proffered business card. ‘I’ve got to get back to work, but thanks for this.’

‘No problem. I look forward to hearing from you,’ Anders nodded.

Things had kind of spiraled out of control from there.

 

* * *

 

‘Mick, don’t forget, you’ve got a meeting with this Ian Gallagher dude in like an hour!’ Mandy called, hammering her fist on Mickey’s bedroom door. It flew open seconds later, and to Mandy’s surprise, her brother was fully dressed and had already styled his hair.

‘I fuckin’ know,’ Mickey said, pushing past her and walking in the direction of their kitchen.

‘That’s a surprise,’ Mandy said, pushing herself up onto the bench, and tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘Want me to come with?’

‘I’m capable of doing this shit myself, Mandy,’ Mickey said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

‘Yeah, I know...’ Mandy bit her lip. ‘Can I come anyway? I’ve seen some of his stuff online already, and my God, that boy is _fine_.’

Mickey raised his eyebrow as his sister made a show of fanning herself with her hand. ‘In that case, definitely not.’

‘What! Why not?’ Mandy pouted.

‘Because believe it or not, this is my fucking job, and I’m trying to give off a semi-professional image,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘You trying to get off with my clients doesn’t help.’

‘ _Miiick_ ,’ Mandy whined. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yes! You can fuck him after I’ve finished shooting him.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

‘Good. Now fuck off, or you’ll be late. You know where you’re going?’

‘Stupid fucking question. It’s the same place I go to meet all my clients.’

‘Yeah, well. Just checking to see if you need a navigator..?’ Mandy said hopefully.

‘Nope,’ Mickey dumped his mug into the sink, grabbed his keys off the bench and headed for the door. ‘Don’t follow me!’

‘I’ll _try_!’ she sang back, grinning as she heard the front door slam shut.

 

* * *

 

Mickey made an effort to be early to his meetings with new clients. Usually because he got lunch beforehand, because he was too lazy to make some at home.

Needless to say, he was surprised and mildly annoyed, when midway through his chicken and cranberry pita, someone stood at the front of his table and cleared their throat rather obnoxiously. ‘What?’ Mickey asked, scowling up at the person.

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a white button down, it was a tall red haired guy with clear hazel eyes and a small smile on his face. ‘You’re Mickey, right?’

 _Shit._ ‘Are you Ian?’

‘I am. Can I sit?’ Ian asked, gesturing to the chair.

‘Yeah, go for it,’ Mickey said, trying to wipe his mouth as casually as he could. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be early.’

‘I hate being late,’ Ian shrugged, folding himself into the chair opposite Mickey. ‘I might order something too, if that’s okay?’

‘If you want. We’re not due to even start talking for another twenty minutes,’ Mickey said, going back to his food.

Ian picked up the menu on the table and scanned it quickly, looking up at Mickey over the top. ‘What have you got?’

‘Chicken and cranberry pita bread thing.’

‘Sounds good,’ Ian mused, waving down a passing waitress. ‘Can I get a chicken and cranberry pita bread and a ginger beer?’

‘Sure. I’ll be right back with that,’ the waitress smiled, looking Ian up and down and walking off to the kitchens, swaying her hips a little more than was strictly necessary.

‘A ginger beer for the ginger hair, huh?’ Mickey asked.

‘Ha. Ha. Ha. Like I haven’t heard that before,’ Ian said, combing his fingers through his hair.

‘Damn, and I thought I was being so original.’

‘Not quite.’

‘Pita and ginger beer,’ the waitress said, reappearing with Ian’s food on a tray in her hand. She placed it down in front of him and smiled. ‘Anything else I can get you today? Water, cutlery... my number?’ she added, batting her eyelashes at Ian.

‘Uh... Sure,’ Ian said awkwardly, taking the piece of folded paper the waitress pulled out from a pocket in her apron. ‘Thanks.’

‘Call me!’ she winked, walking away to serve someone else.

Ian frowned at the paper and put it in his pocket without looking at it. He went straight to eating his food, ignoring the look Mickey was giving him.

‘Did you seriously just get some chick’s number?’ Mickey asked incredulously.

‘Mhmm,’ Ian hummed around a mouthful of pita.

‘Do chicks just throw themselves at you or something?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘It’s kind of annoying actually.’

‘Why?’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Don’t.’

Ian gave a long suffering sigh and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, pushing them up past the elbows. ‘I’m completely uninterested in girls.’

‘You’re gay?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘Well, shit. I’ll have to tell my sister not to get her hopes up.’

Ian laughed. ‘Give her my apologies.’

Mickey finished off the last bite of his food and watched Ian in a completely non-creepy way, now that he had the chance to study him.

To Mickey, Ian seemed quite normal. He had a ring in either side of his nose, small and mostly unnoticeable until they caught the light, a half inch tunnel, industrial and tragus piercing in each ear, as well as a couple of things that Mandy had experimented with at some point or another, including a conch, daith and forward helix. He didn’t have too many obvious tattoos, either. Just one of those black and white things that looked like two tadpoles, a bunch of tattoos around his wrists – most likely the beginnings of two sleeves, seeing as they continued up his forearms and into his shirt sleeves – and “ _Survivor_ ” written across his knuckles. Oh, and a thing on the back of his neck, continuing under the collar of his shirt, that Mickey had seen when Ian had talked to the waitress earlier.

Then again, there was a lot of skin hidden under clothing right now, and if Ian was coming to Mickey for a photo shoot, then he most likely had a lot of stuff under wraps at the moment. Literally.

‘What?’ Ian asked, raising his eyebrows at Mickey.

‘Huh?’ Mickey asked, blinking out of the weird little trance he had found himself in.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘You seem kind of normal compared to the people I usually deal with. I’m not used to... I don’t know.’

‘So few facial piercings and tattoos on display?’ Ian offered, taking a bite from his already half eaten pita.

‘Yeah. Do you even have a tongue bar?’

‘Nah, can’t stand them,’ Ian shook his head. ‘I know someone who had one, the ball came off while she was eating, and she nearly broke a tooth crunching down on it.’

‘Fuck that,’ Mickey said, crinkling his nose.

‘Yeah. Her hands were shaking so bad, I had to screw it back on.’

‘Aren’t you a good friend?’

‘Hah. Yeah. She took it out after that. Didn’t want to swallow it or something.’

‘Fair enough,’ Mickey said, whipping out his phone and waiting for Ian to finish off his food before they started their actual consultation. He sent a text off to Mandy quickly.

 

_bad news_

_oh no what_

_you got no chance with this gallagher dude_

_why? he got a girlfriend? you know me – i can work with that_

_hahahaha no you can’t. he's gay._

_FUCK. why have you got all the luck?_

_bc i'm fucking fantastic obviously_

_like fuck u are. don't fuck him yet! ;) ;) ;)_

_i'm not a slut like u.  
_

_i bet u would be for that boy, like??? damn son_

_shut the fuck up. gtg. see u later douchebag  
_

_whatever assface. enjoy the view ;)_

‘Uhhh... Okay then,’ Mickey put his phone back in his pocket and looked up to Ian. ‘So you want to do a shoot, right?’

‘Yeah. My agent kind of dude recommended you,’ Ian explained.

‘Who’s your dude?’

‘Anders Wright.’

‘Anders,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Good guy.’

‘He’s pretty cool,’ Ian agreed. ‘He said that you would be able to make me look hot, or something.’

‘You probably don’t need much help in that department,’ Mickey said before he could stop himself.

Ian raised an eyebrow. ‘Anyway, I had a few ideas, but apparently you’re good at coming up with stuff?’

‘It’s mostly my sister, actually. But, uh. Whatever,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘If you want to do something themed, and in a setting, we can do that. If you want to do something just with a plain backdrop, we can do that too. It’s more up to you than anything.’

‘Sure. Do you want me to email my suggestions to your sister instead? If she’s the person who organises it all.’

‘That would probably be better,’ Mickey grinned. ‘I’m just the camera guy.’

Ian laughed. ‘The camera guy _and_ the pretty face.’

Mickey bit his lip. ‘Something like that.’

Ian smirked. ‘I’ll get in touch with your sister then. What’s her name?’

‘Mandy.’

‘That’s right. I’ll email Mandy and we can set something up for... Wednesday? If that suits?’

‘Dunno, man. I don’t sort that shit either.’

‘Great. So, uh. That it? I have to go to my sister’s. I’m on babysitting duty in half an hour.’

‘That’s pretty much it,’ Mickey nodded, waving down the waitress. ‘Can we have the bill, thanks?’ he asked. She nodded and went off, returning a few moments later. Mickey shoved a few notes in that should be able to cover both his and Ian’s food, and said, ‘Keep the change.’

The waitress nodded and smiled, turning to Ian. ‘Still got my number?’ she asked.

‘I do,’ Ian smiled.

‘Good, I look forward to hearing from you,’ she smiled, walking away to another table.

‘That’s just sad, man,’ Mickey shook his head.

Ian shrugged. ‘She’ll have forgotten about me in a week’s time anyway. Speaking of numbers, you wanna give me yours in case I need to text you about anything?’

‘Sure,’ Mickey said, typing his number into Ian’s phone. ‘Any time.’

‘Great. And thanks for lunch. Didn’t have to pay for my stuff.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Can’t be fucked splitting the bill.’

‘So was this like a date, then?’ Ian asked.

‘Fuck off.’

Ian grinned. ‘See you Wednesday!’

‘Whatever, man.’

 

* * *

 

_you have really nice eyes, btw._

_who the fuck is this?_

_Ian Gallagher?_

_oh fuck hey man. wait what about my eyes?_

_they're really nice_

_uh thanks?_

_haha_

_why are u txting me? cancelling or somethin?_

_nah just bored as fuck. i'm babysitting and there’s nothing good on tv._

_don’t u have other friends to txt?_

_they're all out getting wasted. or high._

_why don’t u do the same?_

_i'm babysitting! so inappropriate jfc. besides, can’t on my meds._

_not gonna ask?_

_not my business_

_huh. i emailed ur sis btw_

_ye she said_

_:) she seems cool_

_ehhhh she’s not bad_

_hahah. shit gtg small child crying!_

_have fun_

_fuck u_

 

* * *

 

_ughhhhh i’m covered in baby shit_

_that’s disgusting_

_just thought u’d want to know_

_WHY_

_idk. to give me more sex appeal or something_

_ha. hahahaha. u don’t need help with that man_

_ur gay aren’t u_

_does it matter_

_nope. just wanna know if i got a chance ;) i think ur kinda hot_

_only kinda? :( i'm hurt_

_hahaha nah but seriously_

_yeah i am_

_;) ;) ;)_

_no_

_no what? ;)_

_we’re not doing this. i'm gonna be shooting u on wednesday_

_ughhhhhh after then?_

_idk maybe. might have to buy me a drink first._

_really?_

_;)_

_stop that_

 

* * *

 

Wednesday arrived faster than Mickey thought it would. Ian was arriving at their apartment at around 10am, so they could use the plain backdrop in the small studio Mickey had created in the large, third bedroom of the apartment.

There was a knock on the front door at 9:45am, and Mickey opened it to reveal Ian standing there, a huge grin on his face. ‘You hate to be late, huh?’

‘Nailed it,’ Ian grinned. ‘Where am I going?’

‘Down the hall, room on the end,’ Mickey said, pointing vaguely in that direction, and shutting the door behind Ian. ‘Mands! He’s here!’

‘Shit!’ Mandy called back. ‘I’m not fucking dressed, asshole!’

‘He doesn’t give a SHIT!’ Mickey yelled. ‘Sorry, don’t mind her.’

‘Fuck you,’ Mandy said, emerging from the hall, dressed, if a little flustered. She stretched her hand out to Ian. ‘Hey, I’m Mandy. We’ve been emailing?’

‘Yeah, it’s good to meet you,’ Ian smiled. ‘Can I ask you where your bathroom is really quick?’

‘Down the hall, first door on the left,’ Mandy said. As Ian smiled gratefully, going off to the bathroom, Mandy grabbed her brother’s arm. ‘He’s hotter in real life, holy shit,’ she hissed.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Mickey hissed back, walking them in the direction of the studio. ‘Don’t say anything or I’ll cut your hair while you sleep.’

‘You’ll only do that once,’ Mandy said dangerously, narrowing her eyes.

They pushed open the door to the makeshift studio, and Mickey went over to his camera, checking everything was in order as he waited for Ian to come in.

Mandy did something with the backdrop, and looked up as Ian entered the room. ‘Oh, look at that! We have matching eyeliner.’

Ian laughed. ‘Anders seems to think I look better with this crap on my face.’

‘He’s right,’ Mandy nodded. ‘Um, okay. So if you want to get ready and whatever...’

Ian nodded, and yanked his shirt off over his head, tossing it in the corner, and rolling his shoulders. ‘Ready when you are, Mickey.’

Mickey took the lens caps off, and put it on his table of equipment, before looking over to Ian. ‘Jesus Christ, man.’

‘What?’ Ian asked.

‘Your back piece is intense.’

Ian shrugged. ‘Dragons are cool.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow as he took in the new tattoos Ian had revealed. The dragon in question extended from Ian’s neck, where the head was, about three quarters of the way down his back, with the tail disappearing somewhere down the left leg of Ian’s pants. The wings were spread slightly, covering most of Ian’s back. Ian’s chest piece was a mass of swirling lines, surrounding the words, “ _See No Evil, Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil_ ”, there was a pair of swallows – one on each hip bone – as a bonus, and a little key on one side of his ribs, with an eagle and rifle on the other side. Of course, Mickey also got a good look at Ian’s tattoo sleeves. There was one consisting of roses, and one which seemed very mechanical. There was – what looked like – chainmaille or armour or something near his shoulder, with chains and gears and weapons, like a pair of brass knuckles, going to the bottom.

Mickey recovered quickly and took a bunch of photos as Ian made various poses, and a few candids of Ian breaking whatever zone he had jumped into, after Mandy started cracking bad jokes. Something about an eggplant? Mickey didn’t get it, but Ian thought it was hilarious.

Ian went off to change outfit quickly, and came back – literally – in a pair of boxer briefs.

Mickey cleared his throat in a vain attempt to distract himself, because _fuck_ , this guy was ripped in all the right places, and it did something to Mickey. Like, y’know, send blood rushing to places it shouldn’t be at this moment.

It did, however, mean that Ian was showing off the rest of his tattoos. A howling wolf on his calf, the tail of the dragon coming to swirl across his left thigh, and a huge geometric, Aztec type design covering his right thigh, and dissolving into random little shapes, that were falling off the main design, and going down to end just above his knee.

‘That’s an impressive tattoo,’ Mickey said, nodding to it.

‘Hurt like a bitch,’ Ian grimaced. ‘Especially behind the knee? Never again, holy fuck.’

Mandy nodded from her place on the sidelines. ‘My friend got a mermaid sitting on an anchor on her thigh, and it looked like she was about to pass out when her tattooist went to do the tip of the tail behind her knee. She nearly broke my hand.’

‘Good reason, trust me,’ Ian said.

Mickey started taking more pictures, before _he_ passed out from the lack of blood in his head left him too dizzy to stand.

Ian jumped back into his zone pretty quickly after that, and eventually, Mickey decided he had enough material to work with. Ian nodded, and pulled his clothes back on, before going off to hastily take the eyeliner off his face.

Mickey took the memory card out of his camera, and put it in the SD card slot in the laptop, and started going through the photos.

‘Oh, that one’s kinda good,’ Ian said, appearing from the bathroom and standing behind Mickey.

‘Mm, they’re not too bad,’ Mickey agreed. ‘I’ll get some edited and sent to you over the next few days.’

‘That’d be great,’ Ian smiled. ‘But uh, you free tonight?’

Mickey stopped going through the photos and tilted his head at Ian. ‘Why?’

‘Because I want to make sure you get enough sleep?’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘I wanna take you out, dumbass.’

Mickey snickered. ‘I know. And no, I have a night shoot booked.’

‘Damn,’ Ian frowned. ‘When _are_ you free?’

‘Mm... Probably Saturday night.’

‘Good. I’ll be here at eight.’

‘What makes you think I’d say yes?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrow in amusement.

‘Would you say no?’

‘No.’

‘Exactly,’ Ian grinned. ‘I gotta go. See you Saturday?’

‘Yeah, alright.’

‘Good,’ Ian put a hand on Mickey’s shoulder, lingering for a couple of seconds, before chuckling to himself and leaving.

Mickey waited until he heard the front door shut, before calling out to Mandy, ‘You need to not be here on Saturday night.’

‘Getting laid?’ she called back, probably from her bedroom.

‘With any luck.’

‘Ooh, who by? Ian?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You go, girlfriend!’

‘Shut the fuck up, Mandy.’

 

* * *

 

_looking forward to saturday mick ;)_

_good for u. i'm looking forward to two hours from now when i'm not out in the fucking COLD_

_still on the night shoot?! it's nearly midnight!_

_wow, a night shoot at night? someone alert the authorities! we have the definition of night!_

_fuck ur a sarcastic little shit aren’t u?_

_shut up man i can’t feel my hands_

_ur txting pretty well for someone who can’t feel their hands_

_i’m not txting. my super awesome sister is :)_

_oh... hi mandy :)_

_hi ian! :)_

_i'm gonna txt u later... let me know when ur home_

_won’t u be asleep?_

_babysitting again_

_ah. ye i’ll txt u xxx_

_xxx back at u mandy_

_:) :) :)_

 

* * *

 

_sorry bout my sister_

_all good. mine would both do the same_

_got sisters too huh?_

_yeah. two._

_that's great and everything, but i'm cold and tired so imma sleep_

_okay all good. was just gonna do a bit of sexting..?_

_in that case, who needs sleep?_

_that's the spirit ;)_

 

* * *

 

Mandy left the apartment an hour before Ian was supposed to come around. She was going to go have a girly night in with one of her friends, and said she’d be back some time in the late morning, so Ian had time to slink out before she got home. Assuming he ended up staying over, of course.

As Mickey thought back to that, lying underneath Ian on the couch as they made out for a bit, he wondered why he had even questioned if Ian was going to stay. He had pretty much been talking about dating since they first met, so, y’know, obviously something was going to happen sooner or later.

Ian and Mickey were rutting against each other like teenagers, and following that example, came quickly in their pants, moaning into each other’s mouths.

‘Fuck,’ Ian mumbled. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mickey said. ‘It was kinda good anyway.’

Ian chuckled. ‘You wanna go for round two? Like, an actual _round_?’

Mickey nodded and pushed Ian’s chest lightly. ‘Get off me, man.’

Ian stood up, and pulled Mickey close to him by the belt loops. He pressed a light kiss to Mickey’s lips. ‘I like you, Mick.’

‘I like you too,’ Mickey smiled. ‘You wanna get on me or you gonna just stand there?’

Ian grinned. ‘Show me the way.’

Mickey laughed and walked off towards his bedroom, hearing Ian’s footsteps trailing after him.

 

* * *

 

Mandy got home earlier than she said she would. As in, she got home at two in the morning and had to endure an hour and a half of loud fucking from the bedroom opposite her own.

When Mickey woke up the next morning, he rolled out of bed, yanked on a pair of pants, and went to take a leak. He walked into the kitchen, intending to only get himself and Ian a mug of coffee each, but was met by his sister, sitting at the table with a bowl of Lucky Charms in front of her.

‘Oh shit,’ Mickey greeted.

Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘Good night last night?’

Mickey flipped her off. ‘He’s still here.’

‘Who’s still here?’ Ian yawned, entering the kitchen, and wrapping his arms around Mickey from behind.

‘You are,’ Mickey said, passing him a mug of coffee.

‘That I am,’ Ian agreed, taking a sip of the black liquid. ‘What’s the time?’

‘Mm... Nearly ten,’ Mandy said, checking the time on her phone.

‘Oh shit,’ Ian groaned. ‘I gotta go.’

‘Always got somewhere to be, huh, Gallagher?’ Mickey asked.

‘Yeah, babysitting _again_ in half an hour. But I also left my meds at home, and I should’ve taken them an hour ago.’

‘That was smart, huh?’

‘Fuck off,’ Ian murmured, kissing Mickey’s bare shoulder and turning to go back to the bedroom. He reappeared a few moments later, fully dressed, and gave Mickey a proper kiss. ‘I’ll text you?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey smiled. ‘Okay.’

Ian grinned. ‘See ya, Mandy!’

‘Bye, Ian!’ Mandy said. After hearing the front door shut, she turned to Mickey and asked, ‘Looks like he really likes you.’

‘Yeah, well. I really like him,’ Mickey said, smiling into his coffee.

‘That’s adorable. You think you could last with him?’

Mickey glanced at the door. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Yeah, I do.’

**Author's Note:**

> okay so prepare yourself for a lot of information right here.
> 
> first, if you have no idea what any of the piercings i mentioned are, then [here's a chart](http://www.piercingtime.com/chart-for-ear-piercing-with-names/) showing what everything is, and a tunnel... is basically a tunnel. btw, if you don't do things in inches (like me) then 1/2 inch is 13mm c:  
> second, i actually do know a tattooist called steve who may or may not be from minnesota? i can't remember.  
> third, the top half of ian's floral sleeve is kind of inspired by my sister's half sleeve, which is roses and a locket. she also has a key. (in case you were interested.)
> 
> also the ball on the end of my sister's tongue bar came off the other day, and she actually _did_ bite down on it, so that bit actually happened. so did the mermaid tattoo bit. which steve did on one of my friends. that was a good six hours i spent in a tattoo parlour.
> 
> edit: i have been informed that you should _not_ twist your piercings bc it will increase your chances of infection. so will using a gun (always ask for the needle, kids! even if it's just for lobe piercings) but i'm too lazy to change that. so yeah, ask for the needle if you get any new piercings. thank you to [endlessnighttimesky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessnighttimesky/pseuds/endlessnighttimesky/) for pointing that out!
> 
> ANYHOO. hit me up on [tumblr](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/) to let me know what you thought of this or something.


End file.
